


Work is Hell [NOW WITH ART!]

by Suvroc (cuteandillusion)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Comes Up With a Tempting Idea, Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Banter, Crowley in Fine Clothes, French Wine, Gen, Historical Omens, Humor, M/M, The Arrangement (Good Omens), The Arrangement - the Early Years, The Middle Ages Stink, as in it smelled bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25506070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuteandillusion/pseuds/Suvroc
Summary: The Arrangement - the Early Years.Or, the Middle Ages were transcendentally boring, and you know what they say about an idle mind, right?
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28
Collections: Holly Jolly July: a Good Omens Gift Exchange





	Work is Hell [NOW WITH ART!]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doomed_spectacles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomed_spectacles/gifts).



> For DoomedSpectacles as part of the 2020 Holly Jolly July Good Omens Gift Exchange! I was excited that you were interested in humor and banter and decided take a peek at what might have transpired one day around 1000 years ago. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to indulge in a bit of medieval reverie. Hope you enjoy!! :D
> 
> (Rated T for discussion of alcohol.)  
> \---  
>  **UPDATE!** I won the [FUPestilence](https://twitter.com/pestilence_stfh?lang=en) auction and a commission by [ Yvesriba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yvesriba/works?fandom_id=114591) in support of the Little Demonic Miracle fund. I am SO HAPPY to show you Aziraphale - um - _admiring_ Crowley's flash outfit in the forests of 1020 AD France! 
> 
> **CLICK HERE FOR ART**
> 
> Thank you so much - your art is such an inspiration! (And [please check out the fund if you need help ](https://pestilencestfh.wixsite.com/fkyoupestilence/ldmf).)

**Time: 1020 (or thereabouts) Location: soon-to-be-Saint-Germain-en-Laye, France**

He saw him coming from 500 paces away. That alone surprised and shocked him. Evidently, he was starting to recognize the combination of that serpentine silhouette and that side-winding gait despite the ever-changing forward march of fashion.

“Oh good Lord,” Aziraphale mumbled, and brought his hands together in front of himself. When that felt too sanctimonious, he took to folding them behind his back, but that seemed too shifty. Eventually, he stuck his arms in the opposing sleeves of his priest robes, and by that point, the demon was right in front of him.

“HA!” Crowley’s cackle rang out across the grove.

“What are you doing here!” Aziraphale demanded.

“Give you three guesses.”

Crowley was dressed more finely than any solitary person walking down a country lane in such a rough and tumble backwoods area of France should have ever been. A leather satchel was slung daringly across his chest. Folded over his nose were a scandalous pair of dark tinted spectacles. He looked a mark if ever there was one, and yet he journeyed with a nonchalance that, frankly, Aziraphale envied.

“Nothing nice, of that I am certain.” The angel sighed. “You’re looking well enough, though.”

“Huh. You’re looking very… clean. Isn’t current belief that bathing is a sin?”*

“Isn’t that just barbaric?” Aziraphale said scandalously and brought his hands from his sleeves to smooth down his front. “I am attempting to instill a ‘cleanliness is next to godliness’ mode of thought, but so far, I don’t think it’s caught on.”

“Uh huh.” Crowley continued walking down the road, and so Aziraphale turned from his direction (which was in fact, not definite) to follow alongside.

“Here for a blessing?” Crowley asked.

“Somewhat. Well. We are working to build a church. At least, that’s the hope.”

“You?”

“Well, inspiring. The humans seem to have it well in hand really. Backed by the king**.”

“Sounds like a bit of a softball pitch if you ask me,” Crowley mused.

“It is actually,” Aziraphale admitted. “They’ve got most of it done. So mainly I’ve been wandering through God’s creation, visiting the villages, performing burial rites, those sorts of things.”

“Bored then?”

“I would never say that!” He glanced away, momentarily distracted by a hare bounding into the underbrush. “What about you? In the area for any length of time?” He tried not to think why he’d asked that. “Here to erm, tempt?”

“It’s not hard. Actually, this is the easiest it’s ever been.”

“Really? I was thinking what with the whole Christianity thing taking off that your lot wouldn’t want to be close to any of this.”

“Yeah, so you’d think, but everyone is just aching to sin. All the repression. Lack of any sort of luxury. It doesn’t take much at all.”

Aziraphale couldn’t knock that. Beyond baths, he still had his collection of books and scrolls, collected over the years, stashed under his bed. In the guise of a priest, he was supposed to have given up all worldly possessions, but, well, that couldn’t mean books, could it?

“So, some sort of hedonistic proposition in your future then perhaps?”

“Naaaaaa, just the usual. There’s a merchant and his family up the hill a bit that are about to fall into financial ruin. I’m meant to,” he flicked a slender, long-nailed finger, “tip him over the edge. Lead his family into a life of crime.”

“Ah.”

They walked on under the painfully blue sky. The sunlight filtered down through the thick trees***, its radiance setting off the sombre tone of Crowley’s garb. A short black cape clung to his shoulders and shifted like the shadows themselves as he ambled onwards. 

“Hey,” he asked, “did they ever check up?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your lot. From last time we were thrust together. They ever check your work?

Aziraphale looked away, and the demon snorted. “Thought as much." After a beat, he continued. "You know, with us both here, might be a good chance to, oh, I don’t know.” He shrugged.

“I certainly do not!”

“Try something new?”

“I don’t know what you are implying.”

The demon let his head fall to the side and rolled his neck to gaze at the angel. “I think you know exactly what I am implying. Let these humans go their own route. They’ll be fine. I’ve found that most of the time, left to their own devices, they come up with just as devious - if not better - evils than hell ever did. Makes my life easier just to claim I did it.”

“That goes against all the rules. You can’t just take credit for any old thing that happens!”

“Why not?”

“Well,” he sputtered, “it wouldn’t be honest.”

At that, Crowley straightened his stance and blew a huff, ruffling the edges of his mid-length hair.

“Right." The demon scanned the rolling, picturesque landscape. "Not noticing many taverns around here.”

“No. I’m afraid not. No salons.”

“You enjoy the local ale?”

“Er. Well.” Azirapahale ground his teeth, trying to land on just the right description. “It is quite sanitary.”

Crowley grimaced. “Ah. Yes. Exactly what I look for in my alcohol. Sanitation.” A few birds flitted from the bottom branches of a copse of trees. Crowley watched them fly. “There is something I noticed on my way over those hills. Some very interesting fruit. I assume they were left by the Romans when they vacated the premises. Nothing much right now really. But, oh, I’d say in about, possibly a century or so? Give or take, and this area could be ripe for vineyards.”****

“Oh really!” Aziraphale couldn’t keep the perk from his voice, although he immediately tried to tamp it back down. “Sounds frivolous.”

“Frivolous. Hum. Can’t have that then can we. Unless,” he swung one long gangly leg and pivoted in place until, with one stride, he was walking back the way Aziraphale had come. “There are other options.”

It took Aziraphale a few steps to catch on to the fact that he was now walking alone on the path, and he missed the latter half of what had been said. Turning to catch up, he trotted after Crowley. “What was that?”

“I’m just saying, maybe then, if you don’t want to leave the human completely on their own, this might be a good time to, erh, expand our horizons?”

Aziraphale stopped dead in his tracks, and exasperated look on his face. Crowley halted and turned as well. “What are you on about then?” the angel asked.

Crowley took an inhalation of the fresh crisp air, and there was a infinitesimal change to his demeanor. A slight wrinkle between the eyes. He stilled the lackadaisical swing of his arms and crossed them over his chest. “You hear any rumors? About 1033?”

“Oh!” He pulled his head back a tad. “Yes. Well, there have been some human theologians in discussion. But well, they didn’t get the ‘one thousand years after Christ’s birth’ prediction right for the end of it all, so I am not about to hang my hat on this one.” He glanced sideways. “Why, have you heard any different?”

“Nope. Just checking.” He watched Crowley’s eyebrows settle back into their relaxed position. “Anyways, so like I was saying. No pubs, no fun, probably got some time before Armageddon, so it sounds like, possibly, we might want to explore an updated repertoire.”

“Such as?”

Crowley started walking a worrying circle around him. “Well, you know. Here we are both back again. Not as damp, I’ll give you that, so I’m not really complaining, but maybe if I could take a crack at that convent, and you might look in on that family on the hill, we could, you know, have a little bit more wiggle room. In the future. Hm?”

Aziraphale fluttered his hands together. “How did you know then that it is to be a convent?*****”

“I studied up.” 

“Did you now.”

He made an odd gesture with his hands. Whatever did that mean? “Seemed innocuous enough. You already said everything is pretty much built. I’d just keep an eye on them. And you could go take a crack at the temptation. And if it all works out, then we could trust each other to head off in instances like this. Take care of things while the other stays somewhere much more to their liking.”

He was swaying now, just gently, as a blade of grass waving in the wind. As a dust mote sifts through the air or an oak leaf weaves its way on an elegant journey, fluttering lazily down, down, down from a branch.

“Just, considering,” Aziraphale said slowly. “Not that I am. But if I were. What if it doesn’t work?”

“It will.”

“But if it doesn’t!”

“Well I’m in for clean-up duty – we just, y’know, fix it and be on our merry way. No harm, not foul. The upper-ups will be none the wiser.”

Aziraphale mulled it over. The past few decades had been, well, dull as toast. The possibility of some sort of excitement beyond picking nits of an evening was more than a little enticing. And. It was Crowley. Sure, Crowley was a demon, one of the fallen, his hereditary enemy and all, but throughout their time on Earth, Aziraphale could not remember seeing him do anything actually cruel. And he'd tried. To remember, that is. Possibly spent a little too much time ruminating on that, actually.

Just as he felt himself begin to cave, a deep-seated fear raised its ugly head once again, and he drew back as if he’d been bit. “No. No! I know what you are getting at, foul fiend. I can read between the lines as well as anyone, and I am not interested!”

“Suit yourself.” Crowley spun back the way he’d came and headed up the road. “Goodbye, Aziraphale.”

“Wait!”

His reaction was immediate. Instantaneous. There was no thought behind it, no hesitation or time spared to examine or imagine what such an exclamation implied.

Crowley didn’t stop.

Aziraphale groaned and jogged after him.

“Let’s just say this,” he began, once he’d settle back at his right side. “What if I were to thwart you.”

Crowley barked a laugh.

“Now please, just listen. What I mean is that you do what you need to do to, um, push that poor man over the edge. Into ruin. But instead of taking up a life of banditry, what if the family were to possibly find a new trade?”

Crowley didn’t look over, but a thoughtful look played at his lips. “A new trade?”

“Something that, well, let’s see. One family of souls can’t be that much, could it?”

“14.”

“Right, 14 souls. Well what if I could press them towards an industry that in the long run, might be shown to pay dividends?” He struggled to keep pace with the lanky demon who determinedly kept walking.

“Dividends.”

“Something that may have been shown to causes people to turn a little bit more towards merriment,” Aziraphale said. “Something that lets them do things they wouldn’t normally do. Maybe say things they didn't feel free to say otherwise? Something that, over the long run would have more of an impact. For… for. Well. Overall.”

“What industry were you possibly thinking of?”

“Well, I have heard that the next big thing for this area might be viticulture.”

The walked on in silence for a bit before Aziraphale embellished. “And I mean, if I were to report that I was able to get a convent built and thwart you, well, bonus points!”

Mirth crested Crowley’s voice. “Heaven has bonus points now?”

Aziraphale wore the expression of a boy who had been caught with his finger in the custard. Crowley coughed ungainly. “Alright. So I’d be able to point out that not only was this family pressed into a new life creating the devil’s nectar, but that this convent could be the start of an entire town that might eventually be filled with people hungering for a better place to drink. I don’t think there is any way that I do not want to try this.”

“Oh goodness, really?”

Crowley grinned from ear to ear. ”Here,” he dug into his satchel and pulled out a piece of cloth wrapped around something. “Have some grapes, angel. I’m going to go talk to some nuns!”

**Author's Note:**

> *Crowley is under the assumption that [monks, for example, were typically prohibited from taking more than two or three baths in a year.](https://www.ancient.eu/Medieval_Hygiene/) But the idea that people didn't bathe in the middle ages is somewhat of a myth. Aziraphale's response sort of relates more to them being English-adoptees, as the Anglo Saxons thought the [Vikings were overly-concerned with hygiene](https://www.medievalists.net/2013/04/did-people-in-the-middle-ages-take-baths/).  
> ** Saint-Germain-en-Laye was founded around 1020 by [Robert the Pious](https://www.saintgermainenlaye.fr/792/histoire-et-patrimoine.htm?L=ppagep) (ruled France 996-1033), which also just happens to be when Azirapahale and Crowley "first reached their little Arrangement".  
> *** King Robert's love of hunting attracted him to the area (which was covered by a forest - [some of which still remains today](https://frenchmoments.eu/forest-of-saint-germain-en-laye/))  
> **** The Romans made wine for their armies and are thought to have [left behind vineyards](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_Bordeaux_wine) after they retreated from France.  
> ***** The King ordered the construction of a monastery or possibly (depending on how much demonic influence you believe there is over Wikipedia)[a convent](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint-Germain-en-Laye). 
> 
> Mmm - also - [this list](http://www.abhota.info/end1.htm) of when the end of days might occur was the impetus for Crowley's question about 1033. I imagine them checking up throughout time, just in case (although eventually they probably just shrugged it off).
> 
> Title inspired by [this comic](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/400750066812345082/) by Matt Groening.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Illustration for "Work is Hell"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28704375) by [Yvesriba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yvesriba/pseuds/Yvesriba)




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